


Take Me To Your After Party

by lezzerlee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Danny Mahealani, Casual Sex, Derek Has Issues, Derek's Life Is Hard, Hook-Up, M/M, Marking, Mentioned Kate Argent, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Rimming, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lezzerlee/pseuds/lezzerlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night after the black light rave, Derek cleans up his apartment. He gets an unexpected visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To Your After Party

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set between season 3, episodes 16 & 17.
> 
> Thanks so much to [gollumgollum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gollumgollum), shaded_sun, & [yviwashere](http://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence) for the beta!

Derek wants to murder someone. He wants to smash every single black light in his apartment, hear the glass shatter over the floor. But he doesn’t, because he’d have to clean that up too.

They painted every goddamn banister on his staircase and he's working his way down each post, scrubbing with acetone first before he has to special order paint remover, or worse, sand the fucking things. He's right in the middle, squatting awkwardly into the curve of the steps —making some progress, but probably more from the force of running his rag over the bars than from the chemical removing any paint— when there is a knock at his door. Derek goes still. He hadn’t set his proximity alarm after the alphas left, which was probably a stupid, suicidal mistake. There's only one fast-beating heart outside, and anyone wanting to kill him isn’t going to knock, so he pushes himself up, dropping the rag at the bottom of the stairs, and pulls the door open.

He is not expecting the hacker kid from Stiles’ school to be standing there. He remembers that vividly, how Stiles manipulated him, even with all the horrible shit that’s happened in his life since then. Derek doesn’t like when people use him, not after Kate. If the look the kid is giving him is anything to go by, Danny remembers him just fine as well.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek grits out, and Danny flinches, has the sense enough to look nervous and regretful with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. But not enough sense to leave, apparently. It takes him a second to answer, as if he’s just now considering the possibility that Derek might disembowel him for showing his face after last night, but seems to decide that Derek won’t. Derek’s claws dig into the thin skin of his palms.

“I need to pick up the stereo equipment or I’ll lose my deposit,” Danny says.

Derek glares.

“Look man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know this place was actually occupied, or that it was yours. Aiden said… well, never mind. It doesn’t matter what he said.”

Derek bristles even more at the mention of the twin. They’d been lucky there were bigger problems to deal with after the rave, or Derek might have killed them both for even stepping foot in the room where they helped murder Boyd.

Danny continues undeterred. “I had no idea he even knew you. So please don’t kick my ass. I can’t really afford to replace the equipment on the zero real job I have right now. I’d have to do some seriously shady shit to make up that kind of money, which is not my style.” Danny’s hands fingers twitch by his sides, mock typing.

Derek is not mollified at all, but he also doesn't want to have to figure out what to do with the equipment if it’s left here, so he reluctantly steps to the side, letting Danny enter.

Skirting by him nervously, Danny heads straight to the overturned table to check on the stuff Derek tossed last night. “Shit,” he says under his breath, picking up some plastic pieces. Derek can smell the twins on him now, Aiden faintly, Ethan more. Derek walks back to the stairs, picks up his rag and starts scrubbing where he left off. Danny starts unplugging speakers, wrapping cords up into bundles and moving everything towards the door. It takes him over half an hour to gather everything he needs, and Derek’s made it almost to the bottom of stairs by then, two bottles of acetone empty on the floor and a third already halfway to gone.

Unlike some people, cleaning does not calm Derek. It’s a waste of time when he has better things to worry about. His anger is simmering under his skin. It's a shade compared to what it once was, but familiar all the same. It makes him restless, makes him want to bite into something soft and defenseless, even though he's more controlled than he's been in years.

He’s scrubbing, mindless, repetitive motions up and down, fingers wrapped around the pole and thoughts firmly set on recalling any lore he might have ever heard about ninja-like supernatural creatures, when Danny clears his throat. Derek glances up and Danny’s scratching the back of his neck, cheeks faintly flushed and the barest gleam of sweat on his skin from moving the speakers. Derek can smell arousal wafting off of him and his control slips just enough to make him want. He wants to ruin, and to punish. He thinks he could get away with it with Danny, starts thinking about how he could use this kid like he's been used, make him pay for his trespasses, give them both something that they crave. He can see it in the way Danny holds himself, toeing the line between confident and awkward. Derek stills his hand, carefully unwrapping his fingers from the pole.

“I, uh…I have someone coming to pick up the equipment now, but I can stay and help clean up if you want,” Danny says. He drags his bottom lip in with his teeth, leaving a faint red line over the plump skin.

Derek’s instant thought is to say no, a knee-jerk reaction to an obvious come-on because those never end well for him. He wants to get Danny the fuck out his space so he can make it right and safe again. Not that it ever was safe to begin with, evidenced by the ease with which the entirety of Beacon Hills’ high school population gained access to and proceeded to destroy it.

There is still paint everywhere, the scent of strangers permeating his space, and even with werewolf stamina, strength and speed, it’s going to take him days to get everything cleaned up by himself. “Sure,” he says without conviction. “This is your fault, after all.”

Danny frowns but doesn’t deny it, and then his phone pings from his pocket. “I’ll be back in half an hour,” he says after checking his message, and he and a friend haul the speakers downstairs. Derek doesn’t hold his breath on Danny coming back.

Forty minutes later there’s a second knock on the door. Derek’s finished the stairs and moved on peeling the fluorescent duct tape from the walls. Most of it comes down easily, but he has to pick a little at the glue that remains.

He opens the door again and Danny walks right in. He’s is carrying a case of glass bottle cokes and has a plastic sack of cleaning supplies like he’s just come from the store. “Got a fridge?” he asks. Derek nods towards the kitchen and Danny drops his bag on the table before shoving the soda onto the empty wire shelves.

Derek is surprised that Danny came back, but he’s not going to dwell on it. He starts peeling off more strips of tape, bunching them into fist sized balls at his feet. Danny heads over towards the storage space. Derek can hear him moving things around, but he doesn’t really pay attention until Danny migrates back into his space, pulling a full trash bag from the storage room. They work around each other, taking down decorations, scrubbing when needed. Danny finishes the last of it off by picking up all the little tape balls Derek threw on the floor and then mopping. They both pile the garbage by the door.

Derek’s never denied being an asshole, so he tells Danny where the dumpster is outside and lets him take down all the bags by himself. He does open a couple bottles of coke though, with his claws because he doesn’t have a bottle opener in the loft. He hands one to Danny when he comes back in and nods towards the couch.

Danny flops, gracefully. Definitely gracefully —Derek’s been around enough teenagers recently to tell. He has an air of confidence that most other kids his age don’t. Seems to have more brains as well, except Derek knows that Danny was Jackson’s best friend.

Teenagers make mistakes.

It makes him think of himself around that age and suddenly his throat tastes bitter, stomach turning acidic like every time he remembers his own dangerous naïveté. “Thanks for cleaning,” he says, wincing when the sugar hits his tongue. He doesn’t usually drink soda, or eat much in the way of sweets, but the burn of it is nice down his throat. They both sit silently, drinking their soda. Derek catches Danny watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“I know your name isn’t Miguel,” Danny says, apropos of nothing. Derek raises his eyebrows. “I know you’re Derek Hale. I know you hang out with McCall, and Stilinski. What I can’t figure out is why.”

Derek swallows another mouthful of coke and watches Danny's eyes dart down to his throat. The grin he releases is feral, he can feel it splitting his face like the slice of a knife, and when he stands Danny very subtly recoils, thick, athletic muscles pressing into the plush cushion of the couch. He doesn't break eye contact with Derek though, and Derek gives him points for his brass balls.

"I don't hang out with anyone," he says.

"Then what do you do?"

Derek stands directly in front of Danny, leaning down to pull the empty coke from his hands. "Do you really want to know?" he asks.

Danny's expression turns sharp, calculating even, as if he's weighing the things Derek isn't implying by standing so close: months of hushed whispers, days absent, Stiles' deterioration and Lydia's distraction. "No," he says, releasing the bottle.

"You have everything you need?" Derek asks, meaning the equipment. He steps away, to throw the bottles out.

"Not nearly," Danny replies, under his breath so Derek won't hear. It makes Derek snort. Danny stands, head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed, and Derek is bracing himself for Danny to change his mind, to demand to know everything, but what Danny says next is not what he expects.

"Listen, I'm getting a vibe, and I don't make a policy over dancing around people's sexuality hang-ups, so if you want to fuck sometime, you should call me."

Derek's primal brain speaks before his logic has time to strangle it into submission. "Why not now?" he asks.

Danny's expression melts into something that can only be described as charmingly smug. "Why not?"

Derek closes the distance between them, probably faster than is prudent if he wants to pass for human. He hopes that his body is distraction enough as he presses himself into Danny’s space, thigh against thigh as he wraps a hand around Danny’s neck and tongues his way into Danny’s mouth. Danny is too smart for his own good, and if Jackson doesn’t tell him after a few more months wallowing, homesick in London, then he’ll figure it out on his own. He’ll figure out what Ethan and Aiden really are. Now that he’s so close, Derek can smell just how much of Ethan’s scent is wrapped around Danny. He wonders if Danny will feel the same way that he did when he figured out that he slept with a murderer.

Danny is broad and firm under his fingers, strong but not unbreakable. Utterly human and fragile, Danny is a bag of bones swimming in syrupy blood, organs just waiting to be released from their wrappings. If he knew what Derek could do to him…

But Derek shoves the urge to bite down. He’s not the alpha anymore; there is no claim. Instead he lets Danny dig his fingers in, grab at Derek’s shoulder, press against the small of his back. Breathing becomes secondary as they lick and bite, feeding like hungry animals, repetitive but nourishing the most basic of instincts.

Eat. Fuck. Kill.

Derek’s only grown tired of one, is well on the way to being done with another. But maybe he’s looking in the wrong places. He was looking at soft curves expecting soft hearts. But the women in his life have had sharp, hard edges. Danny is nothing like anyone he’s been with before. He likes that this will be a one time thing, a taste, dipping his feet into another pool and hoping he doesn’t get pulled under.

Danny is completely onboard if the way he’s clawing at Derek’s shirt is any indication. Derek gives him what he wants, pulling the blue fabric over his head. He rakes his hands up Danny’s side, drawing his yellow shirt up along his ribs before dropping back down to tuck his fingers into the band of Danny’s pants. The fit is tight, fabric burn across his knuckles and a moan against his lips. Derek wants to draw that sound out again.

Shoving his hands as far as they will go, Derek clutches at skin, at hips and bone, and there’s too much clothing between them. He drags his hands up again, takes the t-shirt with him, grips Danny’s jaw between his fingers before he can look back down. Danny’s neck is exposed, artery pulsing shallowly under the surface of his skin. Derek tilts Danny’s head, likes the way it shifts Danny’s hips against his own. He can bend Danny to his whim, break him down. The best part is that he doesn’t have to put him back together again. Derek can take and take, because no hearts are on the line, no lives, no family. It’s just him and a boy—teenaged but with experience, the opposite of what Derek once was. Danny may find out later what he’s gotten himself into, but at least he knows Derek is a bad choice. At least Derek won’t be the thing that truly ruins him. Sex is just sex when both parties have no expectations.

He pushes his thumb into Danny’s mouth and is rewarded with a hot, slick tongue gliding over his fingernail. His other hand shoves up into the heat under Danny’s arm, into the hair and sweat and musk concentrated there. Danny fights for control, tries to manhandle Derek towards the couch, but Derek is far too strong and won't be cowed. If Danny won't back down and submit then they can end this right now. Derek's done taking the back seat in his own sex life.

He releases Danny’s jaw only to shove a hand into his perfectly styled hair, roughing it up. He likes taking a little of the polish off Danny’s appearance. He wants to smother Ethan’s scent with his own, claim him, take Danny away from him like they took Erica and Boyd from him. He wishes he could do more, wishes he could leave his mark in blood and bruises, but he has to hold back. There’s nothing tender in the way he scrapes his nails down Danny’s spine, until he can cup both hands underneath Danny’s ass. Lifting him is easy after that, and surprise jolts through Danny’s body, because Derek is just a hair smaller than him in size, but he wraps his legs around Derek’s waist anyway.

"Fuck, you're strong," Danny says. Derek kisses him silent, walking him towards the staircase, leading him up to where he moved his bed after Isaac left. There's no way he can fit both their bodies on it at once, so Derek sets him down. He slips a hand between Danny’s thighs as they ascend, pressing his intent into the seam if Danny's jeans. It’s just enough pressure right over Danny’s hole, and Derek waits to see if Danny will back out now.

Danny glances over his shoulder around the curve of the support column. He smiles with blindingly white teeth before he goes upstairs. Derek gets a great view of his ass before he follows him up.

Derek stops before they can make it to the bed, hand wrapped around Danny’s wrist. He doesn’t want to fuck there, not after his last time being with Jennifer, not until it’s with someone he means it with again. It’s too intimate.

He has to think of something else quickly, but there’s no furniture up here, nothing but an exposed water pipe with his clothes hanging from it, with his pants folded on the floor, and box for his socks and underwear. He drags Danny over to it, shoving hangers apart and guiding both of Danny's hands to grip the bar.

Sliding his hands down Danny’s body seems like the next natural step. He runs his palms over his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the muscle near Danny’s spine as his fingertips skate along his ribs and then lower. He circles them around Danny’s body, stepping closer so that his lips press against the bones of Danny’s neck and he quickly undoes Danny’s belt. The fabric of his hanging shirts brushes against their shoulders. He can smell the leather of his jacket as it hangs on the other side of their bodies. He knows that Danny can’t see anything but dark fabric and brick wall.

Derek pushes Danny’s pants and briefs over his hips until they drop onto the floor. His fingernails rake up Danny’s flank and he kisses his way down Danny’s spine until his stubble brushes the top curve of Danny’s ass. He has to drop to his knees to do more.

Derek picks one of Danny’s feet up at a time, freeing him from the pile of clothing and shoving it to the side. Danny strains, pushing back as far as he can without letting go of the bar. Derek’s palms drag over skin, over strong muscle and dark hair as he hooks his thumbs beneath the curve of Danny's cheeks. He spreads Danny wide and watches at the way Danny’s back contracts, the rippling of his muscles. He leans in close and breathes, sending warm air across Danny's pucker just to watch it twitch.

When he looks up, Danny is biting his lip waiting, glancing under his arm to see what Derk will do. Derek smirks at him and Danny laughs. "Asshole," he mutters.

Derek’s smirk turn sharper as he presses a dry thumb to Danny's hole. Danny makes a wounded noise and Derek feels the muscle flex underneath his finger. He wants to push it right in, but Danny's not nearly open enough, not wet enough, not begging enough for Derek's taste. He taps his thumb and watches Danny’s hole contract in defense only to reopen as if begging to be filled. Danny is so hard for him already. His body strains towards Derek’s touch and Derek can smell the way Danny leaks for him, the acrid boy-sweat sweetness of arousal, can practically taste the salt of it on his tongue. As if to prove the point, Derek watches as a drop of precome falls to the floor between Danny's legs.

He spreads Danny wide and licks in. Danny’s moan is broken and loud, cascading through the empty apartment. Derek presses farther in, he rubs his lips over Danny’s hole, buries his cheeks between the globes of Danny’s ass.

“You’re going to give me beard burn,” Danny says, then gasps when Derek swipes his tongue across his asshole again.

Derek pulls back. “Do you care?” he asks, teasing his finger, stroking over Danny’s clutch of muscle again and again. “Is it going to make your boyfriend jealous?” He wonders what Ethan will do, when he smells Derek all over Danny’s skin.

Danny doesn’t answer, so Derek licks his way back in, fucking Danny with his tongue, forcing the tip of it inside of Danny’s gradually opening body. He runs the flat of it from Danny’s perineum up, making him sloppy and wet. Skin tastes like skin, but eating a boy out is drastically different than eating a girl out. There’s no sweetness on his tongue, no extra wetness added to his own spit. The movement of muscle beneath his tongue is stronger. Everything is firm beneath his hands.

He lets go of Danny’s thigh to wrap a hand firmly around Danny’s dripping, sticky cock. Thumbing over the tip, Derek smears precome over his fingers and down the shaft. Danny jerks forward into his grasp. It’s just a shade too dry as Derek jacks him off.

Danny’s not very vocal, but he’s breathy. He gasps and sucks in air, hisses when Derek starts to work a finger inside of him. He lets out a quiet, “oh,” when Derek’s knuckle breaches past the muscle, whimpers when Derek works him from both ends, twisting his finger around inside as he runs his hand up and down Danny’s cock. Danny chokes, and groans, and bites his lips raw when Derek presses his finger forward, down towards Danny’s prostate.

Derek removes his finger. He sticks it in his mouth along with another to get them wet before he presses both back in. Danny starts to shake, toes curling into the floor, the knuckles of his toes turned white where they press against the wood floor and the blood is pushed out beneath his weight. Derek can hear the way the cadence of Danny’s breathing changes and releases his cock. He doesn’t want him to come, not yet. It’s the opposite of what he would usually do with a woman. He tries not the think about it, but Kate had taught him well. She taught him how to make her come twice before he fucked her. She also taught him how to submit to her whims, to not demand more than the luxury of burying himself inside her tight heat before she crawled out of his car and left him to drive back home through the preserve with the windows rolled down.

He stops thrusting his fingers. He won’t… He knows Danny’s not expecting more, but he’ll make it clear again to Danny after, that there are no expectations, that there should be no expectations. This is a one time affair. He doesn’t think it will be a problem, but Danny’s young, and Derek isn’t going to be responsible for misdirected emotions.

Danny whines and starts rolling his hips, trying to fuck himself on Derek’s stilled fingers. Derek doesn’t give in. He counters the movement of  Danny’s body, not allowing them to slide until Danny’s breathing evens out, until his eyes open and he looks back in slack-jawed desperation to see what Derek will do.

Derek pulls his fingers out. He slaps two fingers to Danny’s hole to hear the wet pop it makes. Danny’s body jerks and the hangers shake as he pulls on the bar. Later, Derek will be able to smell Danny’s sweat on the hem of his shirts from where they brush against his slicked body.

Derek licks the curve of Danny’s flank but he wants to taste more, wants to taste everything that makes Danny different than anyone he’s been with before. He reaches between Danny’s legs again and pulls his cock back. He can just get his mouth around the tip of Danny’s cock if he tilts his head right. Danny gasps out a, “Fuck,” as Derek tongues at his slit. Precome smears his lips and salts his tongue, making Derek’s mouth water even more. He palms Danny’s ass as he sucks, digging his nails into the skin, not quite bruising with the pressure of his fingers.

Danny’s calves shake, thighs flexing to keep him balanced. The veins carrying his life’s blood back to his heart stand in contrast between skin and straining muscle. Derek imagines that if he ran a claw through it, Danny would snap like a rubber band.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” Danny pants, finally finding his voice. His head is thrown back, his throat stretched long and taut. He sounds ruined, words cracking over his vocal cords like a broken violin’s bow. He’s breathing like he’s been running suicides at lacrosse practice; sweat is dripping down his spine. Derek releases his cock, and Danny honest to God whimpers, throws in a few pleas as his body shudders. Derek soothes him, skimming his hands up and down Danny’s flank slowly.

“Condom?” Derek asks.

“Wallet, in my pants,” Danny says.

Derek’s pleased when Danny doesn’t even attempt to move his hands from the bar as he bends down to rummage through the pile of clothing. He comes up with Danny’s wallet, ignores the glaring proof of Danny’s age on his driver’s license and picks out the condom and a packet of lube before tossing the wallet back on the pile. He tears the foil open and slips the condom on, giving Danny one more sloppy set of licks before standing. He squeezes the lube onto his fingers before wrapping them around his cock and lining himself up.

Derek presses his hips forward until the tip of his dick has breached past Danny’s tight circle of muscle. Danny’s legs spread just a little wider, grounding his body as Derek puts both hands on Danny’s hips, using Danny as an anchor as he sinks all the way in. Danny lets out a sharp, cut-off moan when Derek snaps his hips. The shirts hanging down around them shake as Danny tries to keep his balance, back arched towards the floor, pushing his ass back into Derek and begging for more.

Derek gives it to him, grinding into him, thrusting in bursts of speed, then slowing down, dragging his cock out of Danny excruciatingly slowly for the both of them. He can feel the way Danny’s body clings to him, tries to draw him in. His hands are restless, roaming over Danny’s body. He skims up his ribs, hooks his hands under Danny’s arms, across his chest to pull him back as far as Danny’s straining arms will allow. Derek bites into the side of Danny’s neck, sucking and bruising, and leaving his mark. He can’t help it, not with the way he wants to claim something for himself. Danny doesn’t say anything, doesn’t warn him off, and Derek relishes it. He’s never been allowed to before.

He bites down Danny’s shoulder, latching onto the muscle just beneath the blade of it, smelling the sweat underneath Danny’s arms. He buries his face there, licks the building sweat, tastes the maleness, the musk. He feels the strength of Danny beneath him as he pistons in.

It makes him snap his hips harder, looking for release, wanting to breed, to let go. Because Danny can take it. He’s crying out in pleasure on each forward movement, meeting Derek’s thrusts.

Their skin slides together, a hot, sticky, squelch trapped between them. Derek’s nipples slide against Danny’s skin. If he squats more, he can get more thrust, so he does, holding Danny’s shoulders and driving in, and in, and in. The only sound in the room is the slap of their skin, until Danny lets out another series of loud curses that slices through the apartment like a razorblade.

Derek wraps a hand over Danny’s mouth to quiet him, tilting his head back to his shoulder. Danny’s breath is hot and wet, slicking the palm of his hand as pant after pant beats out the rhythm of Danny’s lungs. Danny still murmurs beneath Derek’s fingers, unintelligible but clearly desperate. Derek wants to drag this out, but he can feel the build of his orgasm at the base of his dick, the hot pressure and promise of blissful release.

He picks up the pace as his hands wrap around Danny’s body, sliding over Danny’s flat stomach until he presses his fingers right above the root of Danny’s dick. He searches for the pressure spot he likes himself, digging his fingers in until Danny sobs into the wall and Derek knows he found it.

Derek works the angle, tilting his hips until Danny doesn’t stop moaning. He releases one long, overwhelmed wail as Derek fucks him. Derek’s claws itch beneath his fingertips, and fangs press against his gums, but he holds himself in, waiting to let go until Danny is an obliterated mess.

It only takes a few moments before orgasm hits Danny hard. He shudders and shakes, and Derek holds him tight, keeps thrusting to drive the orgasm out of Danny completely, white streaks across the floor and the corner of Derek’s folded pants. The apartment goes silent as Danny’s voice chokes over his own pleasure.

Derek follows him after, as Danny’s head sags forwards and he all but collapses but for his hands that still resolutely hold onto the bar. Derek barks through his orgasm, face smashed into Danny’s back, the sweat from his hair smearing with the sweat of Danny’s skin. He pants and thrusts weakly until he’s completely spent, until his mind is blank and clear.

He feels nothing. He doesn’t know what he expected. Maybe some satisfaction, maybe some sense of superiority, of primal pride and ownership. Instead he feels empty, and ashamed as having used anybody like he’s been used before.

Derek’s legs are just as shaky as Danny’s, and when he urges Danny’s fingers free from the bar, they both collapse to the floor in an awkward, naked heap. The wood is hard and cool. The sun has dropped low in the sky, making the loft dim, though the glow from below brightens the ceiling above the stairs. It takes a minute before their breathing evens out, until Danny starts to stir, weak movements of his arms and legs as he attempts to sit up.

“That was fucking fantastic,” Danny says with a smile. His back bows as he leans his elbows against his knees. He’s unabashed at his nudity, at what they just did, at fucking a stranger who by all rights should have never invited him in.

Derek hoists himself to his feet and makes his way downstairs. He grabs two glasses from the kitchen cabinet and fills them with water. Danny’s already got his jeans back on when he comes up the stairs, and takes the water without a word, and gulping the entire thing down in one go. The room is sticky with their scent and the bitterness in Derek’s stomach returns. He grimaces, gazing at the floor until he can come up with something to say.

Danny is definitely more observant that Derek’s given him credit for because he says, “Hey dude, chill. It’s fine. I’m not looking for anything serious, and I’m not going to report you for anything. The dating pool would be next to nothing if age was a problem, if you know what I mean.”

Derek nods, thankful, but still not happy. He doesn’t really feel any better than he did before. His life is still fucked, and there’s still something evil in Beacon Hills. Scott should be his priority, and here he is fucking someone he barely knows when he could be doing something useful.

Danny walks towards the stairs, patting Derek’s shoulder before he heads down. Derek can see the bruises budding on Danny’s back, on his neck. He wonders if they were worth it. His marks aren’t claim at all. Danny doesn’t need him, can’t ever be his. He doesn’t want Danny that way anyhow.

Derek slips on a pair of sweats and follows. Danny has his shirt on and is writing something on the back of the receipt left in the pack of soda he brought. “Listen,” he says. “I don’t want to get any more involved with whatever your friends are up to, but if you want to do this again sometime, call me. No strings, no commitment; everyone needs a little release sometimes.”

Derek takes the strip of paper and follows Danny to the door, sliding it closed as Danny heads down the hallway. When he turns back, everything is in order again. There’s even soda in the fridge, which is more than Derek’s stocked up on in ages. But his stomach feels twisted as he thinks about Danny’s words. They’re not untrue, but Derek thought he knew what he wanted, and a release wasn’t it.

He opens a window to air the place out and pulls out Peter’s laptop, starting research on what the shadow demons could be.

 


End file.
